


time

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (at least a mild happy ending idk), Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Human Disaster Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Zyggeria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: Or: the aftermath of Zyggeria. Anakin sees everyone's scars.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 23
Kudos: 508





	time

Anakin had expected injuries. He had expected the marks on his former master’s arms, his face, but still, looking at the scars and bruises discoloring Obi-Wan’s cheeks, neck, Anakin felt something harden and freeze inside of himself. Still, he kept his voice light as Obi-Wan and he walked away from Ahsoka and Governor Roshti. “Looks like we should get you patched up,” Anakin commented.

“Yes,” Plo Koon agreed from Obi-Wan’s other side. “I would imagine the captain and you are in great need of rest.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, lifting his head. “Rex. Is he at med bay?”

“Thanks to you,” Anakin replied. Obi-Wan had been insistent on that the minute they had gotten back to the cruiser. Anakin barely managed a word in with his captain before he was being rushed away, and now Anakin wished he had sent Obi-Wan along with Rex, but no, Obi-Wan had stayed behind in his typical fashion to secure final talks with the governor. “So,” Anakin said now, “it’s your turn.”

He let his hand fall on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, but then he felt a sudden burst of panic—bright, hot, flaring, that Anakin was left disoriented as Obi-Wan shifted out of Anakin’s grip. For a moment, Anakin didn’t know what happened except he knew that panic hadn’t come from _him_ , and Plo Koon had no reason to feel that way, and Ahsoka—when Anakin turned around, Ahsoka was still talking to the governor, a pleasant smile on her face. No, she was fine. So that left only—

Obi-Wan was already turning away, his pace quickening ahead of Anakin’s. That was when Anakin noticed the fainter scars tracing up the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, and Anakin knew from the curl of the scar that there must have been a longer one down his back.

“Skywalker,” Plo Koon said from somewhere to Anakin’s side. “I must tend to some of my men. We have lost—”

“Of course,” Anakin said, his own voice distant to his ears. He managed to look at Plo Koon in the face and bobbing his head into a quick bow, he added, “I’ll see you at the debriefing.”

“Of course,” Plo Koon echoed, and Anakin wondered if he, too, had felt the panic, but if he did, he didn’t say anything. But before Anakin could consider asking the master, Plo Koon was already turning around and walking away in the direction of his own troopers.

With that, Anakin whirled around on his heel and practically jogged up to Obi-Wan’s side. “Alright,” he said, matching his strides with Obi-Wan’s. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Am I supposed to know what you’re referring to?” came Obi-Wan’s frustratingly level reply.

“Something happened,” Anakin said. “You were…” His voice drifted as Obi-Wan turned to look at him. He couldn’t read Obi-Wan’s expression: not the one he was giving him right now, anyways. The one that used to always unsettle Anakin when he was a youngling. The one that Obi-Wan wore when he wanted to hide something, although Anakin wasn’t always sure exactly what. Not right away, anyways.

“I’m quite alright,” Obi-Wan only said. He nodded down the hallway. “As I’m sure the medics will tell you if you really must worry.”

“If I really _must_ ,” Anakin mimicked. Then, marching down the hallway, he added over his shoulder, “Then don’t just stand there—let’s go.” He knew that was the best course of action to take. If Obi-Wan was going to remain stubborn, then fine. Let him be stubborn. Anakin could play that game too.

When they reached the medical bay, Anakin found there were already other Togruta getting bandaged, some looking worse off than others. A few troopers, too, and Anakin saw Rex asleep on one of the cots. He felt some relief at that, at the very least.

But that relief was short-lived as he felt Obi-Wan slipping away from beside him, and before Obi-Wan could leave completely, Anakin turned quickly. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“There are many people who need to be helped here,” Obi-Wan replied. “I can wait.” He started to turn back towards the doors, and before Anakin could say anything, Obi-Wan was gone, leaving Anakin to himself in the medical bay. For a moment, Anakin just stood there, and then, staring at the empty space where his former master had just been, he let out a soft growl of frustration.

“ _Dammit_ ,” he muttered, and he looked around the medical bay. He could at least grab a bacta patch. Obi-Wan could scold him later. So Anakin picked up the bacta patch and headed out of the medical bay, and by the time he was out, he found Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen.

Of course.

But Anakin wasn’t an idiot. His feet led him to Obi-Wan’s quarters, and not even bothering to knock, Anakin walked inside in time for Obi-Wan to bolt out of his seat.

“Just me,” Anakin said, waving the bacta patch. “Snagged one of these. Which you would have, too, if you had waited for a second. Really, Master,” he added, smirking, “I think I’ve suddenly become the patient one.” He looked up at Obi-Wan and his smirk faded when he didn’t even see the barest trace of a smile on the man’s face.

“Huh,” Anakin said, forcing to lighten his voice again, “that usually works.” He walked over to Obi-Wan. “Alright. Let’s see it.”

“I can do this part myself, thank you,” Obi-Wan said, but Anakin reached forward and nudged his former master back. Or, at least, he _tried_ to give Obi-Wan a nudge, but again, he felt that awful, mind-twisting sensation of panic, and then Obi-Wan was sinking back into his seat, and Anakin was left still standing, stunned, trying to make sense of the jumbled tangle—

Anakin was the one who spoke first.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, his voice sounding too loud in the otherwise silent room. “What’s going on?” He lowered himself slowly by Obi-Wan so that they were eye-level, but Obi-Wan was looking away, just enough so that Anakin found himself looking at the purple bruises discoloring his former master’s cheek.

Anakin’s eyes darted down Obi-Wan’s profile, down to his neck, where he found more bruises. Some that same purple shade, others green. Anakin’s blood ran cold at the sudden image of a hand wrapped around Obi-Wan’s throat— _Zyggerians_.

But there was a pain somewhere else. Anakin’s eyes flitted lower, down to Obi-Wan’s side. There, that was where he felt the needles of pain the most, right underneath Obi-Wan’s otherwise fortified shields. Anakin smiled grimly to himself. Obi-Wan could hide all he want, but Anakin knew he would find the truth sooner or later.

“Alright,” Anakin said again, sitting back on his haunches. He started to ready the bacta patch. “You can swallow your pride for a second, can’t you?”

He heard the huff of a sigh from Obi-Wan, followed by a weary, “Yes, Anakin, I think I can manage.”

“Great,” Anakin said, keeping his eyes on the bacta patch. He fiddled with the corners, but just as Obi-Wan started to shift off his tunic, Anakin heard the hitch of a breath, and then Anakin lifted his head just in time to see the twisted grimace on his former master’s face, the slightly shaking arms, and Anakin set the bacta patch aside. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Obi-Wan—”

“Minor injury,” Obi-Wan replied breathlessly. Anakin noticed the sweat beading across Obi-Wan’s forehead, the painful tautness in his face. “It’s, ah, making things a little difficult.”

“Difficult how?” Anakin asked, his voice low.

“No need to take that tone,” Obi-Wan said. “I only seem to have…” A sharp cry suddenly left Obi-Wan’s lips as he once more tried to lift his tunic.

“Wait, Obi-Wan—” Anakin quickly took Obi-Wan’s arms, started to lower them back down, and this time, the surge of panic came rushing forward even faster, even harder that Anakin was left blinking dots out of his vision. Anakin felt Obi-Wan slide out of his grip, and when he looked down at his former master, a memory slid into place. Of rough hands, a bruised face, a limp just barely concealed before heading out for the day. Twin suns, a place so crowded and suffocated that Anakin didn’t remember how to breathe until he was actually doing it.

“It’s just me,” Anakin said quietly, settling back down in front of Obi-Wan. He slipped his hands back over Obi-Wan’s wrists, found the rapid flutter of a pulse underneath the skin. “Obi-Wan.” He searched Obi-Wan’s face, found stormy eyes that, in the dim light of the room, looked greyer than its usual blue.

For a few moments, Anakin stayed in front of Obi-Wan, hands still wrapped around his former master’s wrists as Obi-Wan’s breaths slowly evened out. Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s pulse slowly settle back into something more regular, something more familiar, and then, standing up, he added, “I’m going to help you take off your tunic. We need to get that bacta patch on.”

An odd expression flitted across Obi-Wan’s face—one that Anakin couldn’t quite catch, but then, squaring his jaw, he just gave Anakin a single nod. And Anakin nodded back, and he settled himself back down next to Obi-Wan. He waited for Obi-Wan to get rid of his light saber, the obi. Careful not to jostle the man any more than he had to, Anakin gingerly tugged at the sleeves first. Wordlessly, Obi-Wan withdrew his arms from the sleeves, and then Anakin was scooping the tunic over Obi-Wan’s head, and then he was setting to work on the undergarments. Anakin caught more bruises, more lashes and burns on Obi-Wan’s wrists and arms, and again, Anakin’s blood ran cold at the sheer sight of them.

Still, he tried to keep his expression as blank as possible as he tugged off the last layer of Obi-Wan’s clothes. But now, Anakin stared at what seemed like a map of scars and lesions spread across Obi-Wan’s chest, his ribs, his stomach.

“The bacta patch,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and Anakin forced himself to meet his former master’s eyes once more. Obi-Wan looked tired, his eyes already half closing from the pain or just the sudden drain in energy, Anakin couldn’t tell. But he nodded anyways and made quick work to apply the bacta patch to where the injuries looked the worst. He tried to ignore how Obi-Wan shivered a little under the brush of Anakin’s fingers, how he seemed to draw back just the slightest bit. _Zyggerians._

Once he had set the bacta patch, Anakin was relieved to find the creases in Obi-Wan’s forehead smooth out. But when Obi-Wan’s eyes opened, they were still so much darker than they normally would be.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get there faster,” Anakin heard himself say. His hands dropped from the bacta patch. “We should have gotten there faster.” Guilt bloomed in Anakin’s chest then, and he forced his gaze away from the scars to Obi-Wan’s face: only there were scars and bruises there too, ones that Anakin knew would heal over time, but then there was that _other_ thing—that panic and _fear_ when Anakin had touched him just moments before.

And Anakin remembered too. He remembered how odd growing up had been—how he had both craved and hated touch. How some touches became associated with love and affection, but how the vast majority of them had been associated with pain and punishment. How he had been both disappointed and relieved that Obi-Wan wasn’t the type to hold. A clasp or brief squeeze of the shoulder, fine, and those had frequented more often as Anakin had grown. But now—

That panic had been so _real_. Everything had been so real. And now Obi-Wan couldn’t even seem to stand even the lightest of touches. _Zyggerians._

Anakin suddenly wanted to turn the cruiser back around to Zyggeria. He wanted to find every single one of those slave masters, every single one of those men who had dared take hold of the whip and watch them drop, one by one, because now Obi-Wan wasn’t even looking at him properly, and that was something he could _never_ forgive—

He hadn’t realized he was breathing so hard until Obi-Wan suddenly said, “Anakin.”

Anakin stopped, lifted his eyes up to Obi-Wan. He looked so tired, drained, marred, and Anakin felt that guilt crash over him again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I should have tried to get the information faster. I could have prevented—”

“The Zyggerians were more powerful than we thought,” Obi-Wan replied. “And more organized than we anticipated.” His voice was quiet, though whether from his weariness or something else, Anakin wasn’t sure. “You have nothing to blame yourself for. But I…” A pained look flitted across Obi-Wan’s face, a look that had nothing to do with the physical injuries.

“Obi-Wan—”

“I _do_ , however,” Obi-Wan said, his voice getting just a bit louder, “have something to apologize for.”

Anakin blinked. _That_ wasn’t what he had been expecting. But then he shook his head. “You’re tired,” he said. “You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do,” Obi-Wan said insistently. He shifted a little, straightening his back, and Anakin reached out instinctively as a grimace bloomed across Obi-Wan’s face. But no, Obi-Wan was already sitting up, and Anakin’s hand still hung in the space between them, just in case.

“I’ve been dismissive,” Obi-Wan started to say quietly. “Of your past.” He looked at Anakin, his eyes sorrowful. “On Kavado…” His features wrinkled as his voice drifted. “I can’t imagine a child being raised in that kind of environment. Or begin to understand, for that matter.”

Anakin dropped his gaze away from Obi-Wan. He felt memories roil from under some hidden surface in his mind, images that flashed through him too quickly for him to grasp. After a while, he said, “There’s nothing to understand. Slavery is senseless.” He curled his hand that was still clutched around Obi-Wan’s tunic. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

He lifted his gaze back up to Obi-Wan, who was regarding him sadly. A small part of Anakin bristled at that. _He_ had been the one to come to _him_ , and yet, a larger, more aching part of Anakin kept him in that room.

Anakin cleared his throat. “I’ll…” He gestured down to Obi-Wan’s ruined tunic. “Find you a new one,” he said halfheartedly, and just as an excuse to move, he stood up and started looking for some other clothes. His movements felt clumsy, out of place in the small room. He found a drawer, tugged out a sleeping tunic. That would have to do. They would be getting back to Coruscant in a few hours anyways.

“Here,” Anakin said, sitting back down in front of Obi-Wan. He slid his arms under the tunic, held it over Obi-Wan’s head. He ignored the small huff of protest from Obi-Wan as he slid the tunic over him. “Don’t complain,” Anakin said, looking down at the top of Obi-Wan’s head. “I don’t want you re-opening anything.”

“I won’t.” And then the tunic had fully slipped over, and Anakin took a step back.

Obi-Wan had settled back into a semi-slumped position, his face tightened with pain once more. Anakin felt a bubble of frustration well up inside of him as Obi-Wan noticed Anakin watching—that pain slid away, replaced by an all-too familiar shield of calm.

“You should get some rest,” Anakin said at last. “I’ll…” He gestured behind himself. “Check in with the others,” he finished lamely. He only barely gave Obi-Wan another nod before he left the room.

\--

Anakin checked on the others. He found Rex asleep in the med bay, Ahsoka nearby him. She had looked cheerful when Governor Roshti had taken her aside, but Anakin saw none of that brightness now. She was reading something from a datapad, one elbow keeping her propped up at the side of Rex’s cot. Anakin saw her lips silently moving, mouthing along words that he couldn’t hear until he came closer.

“ _And then_ —” Ahsoka stopped, her eyes lifting up to Anakin. “Master,” she said, setting her datapad down. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Anakin replied. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He nodded down at the datapad, managing a small smile. “Reading Rex something?”

Ahsoka’s expression turned sheepish. “Something like that,” she replied. She picked up her datapad. “Governor Roshti recommended me some stories. It’s been interesting.” Anakin noticed the slight drop in her voice, the faintest of flickers in her energy.

“And how was your talk with Governor Roshti?” he decided to ask.

“Interesting,” Ahsoka repeated. And then, after a beat, she looked down at Rex, her brows furrowing together.

“He’ll get better,” Anakin said. “You’ll see.”

“I know,” Ahsoka replied automatically. She looked back up at Anakin. “How’s Master Kenobi? I haven’t seen him here.”

“He’s in his quarters.”

“Oh.”

There was a strange silence that hung between them, and then Anakin asked quietly, “How’re you feeling?”

Ahsoka lifted her shoulder. “Oh, you know,” she said, flashing Anakin a weak smile. “Seen better days.” She blew out a breath. “Glad that we got as many out as we did.” But Anakin noticed Ahsoka’s hands were shaking as she tucked the datapad under her arm. “Governor Roshti said that there’ll be a lot of repairs to be done.” Her shoulders sank a little. “But that might take some time, considering…everything.”

“And what about you?” Anakin asked. When Ahsoka lifted her eyes to him, he asked, “Wanna walk?”

Ahsoka paused. And then, with a small nod, she followed him out of the med bay, down the long corridors. The datapad remained tucked under Ahsoka’s arm, and her hands still trembled just the faintest bit as they rounded corners, passed by troopers, and somehow—finally—managed to the hangers. There were still some people milling around, repairing fighters and the like, but the hanger was mostly occupied by droids.

“I’ve never actually read anything by my people,” Ahsoka said suddenly.

Anakin turned towards her, but Ahsoka was looking down at her datapad, her fingers lightly tapping against the screen. “I never had reason to,” she said after a while. “Of course, there was always literature in the Archives, and sometimes a class would mention a Togrutan clan, but we’re not exactly commonplace.”

That was true. Anakin only knew of one other Togrutan Jedi, and that was Shaak Ti. He tried to think of a time he had seen a Togrutan citizen on Coruscant, but again, he came up blank. He couldn’t even remember if he had seen a Togruta in the Senate Building, which was alarming.

“Governor Roshti said that Kiros is going to join the Republic,” Ahsoka said, as though reading Anakin’s mind. “So maybe we’ll be seeing more of my people, but…” A pained look flitted across her face. “That was after being put into slavery.” She fingered the datapad. “I just wish that hadn’t been the reason why Kiros decided to join.”

“The Republic can help Kiros to rebuild,” Anakin offered, although the words felt strange, flat as they both considered what exactly needed to be rebuilt.

“I know,” Ahsoka said wearily. “But _that_ …” She looked lost then, as though she had been pitched into some violent storm without a means of staying afloat. “I don’t know how much time it’ll take to repair the damage done. If _all_ the damage will be repaired _ever_.” She shot Anakin a sidelong glance. “Maybe pessimistic?”

Anakin’s mouth was dry. He looked back down at Ahsoka, whose eyes were so wide, so desperately looking for some answer—some sense.

 _Slavery is senseless_ , he had told Obi-Wan. And he had the feeling that deep down, Ahsoka knew that too. And Anakin felt a sudden fury then: _Zyggerians_. 

“No,” Anakin replied. “I don’t think you’re being pessimistic.”

Ahsoka’s shoulders dropped. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I thought so too.” She was quiet, and then, after a moment, she squared her shoulders. “When the war’s over, we’re going to get rid of slavery.”

Anakin looked down at Ahsoka. “That’s a pretty big task.”

“Yeah, well,” Ahsoka shrugged, just a hint of her old defiance coming back. She looked up at Anakin. “If there’s anything I learned, Master, it’s that there’s no task too big for us.”

Anakin’s chest tightened. “Yeah,” he managed to say roughly. “Fine, Snips.” He held out his hand. “After the war’s done, you and me. We’ll get rid of slavery together.”

The smile Ahsoka gave him was probably the best thing he had seen in a long time.

\--

Anakin had to wake Obi-Wan eventually, and when Ahsoka and he got back to med bay to find that there was significantly more space, he decided that now was the time. So he had asked Ahsoka to stay at the med bay and contact him if anything significant happened while Anakin went off to Obi-Wan’s quarters.

So Anakin walked into Obi-Wan’s quarters now, half-expecting him to be already awake. Obi-Wan had always been a light sleeper—really, they all were, at this point—but Obi-Wan remained still, even when the door opened. Anakin was relieved, and he felt a little sorry for waking him, but he needed to, otherwise the more major injuries would never get addressed.

Anakin made his way to Obi-Wan’s bedside. “Master,” he said quietly. He hovered over Obi-Wan, observing the smallest of creases between Obi-Wan’s brows, the rattling breaths. Anakin’s eyes lowered to where Obi-Wan’s hands had curled into tight fists. Something kicked at Anakin’s chest.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, a bit louder. “Obi— _hey!_ ” Anakin launched back just in time to avoid getting a black eye. He caught Obi-Wan’s fist, his other hand resting on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Panic. Sheer panic. Fear. Anakin almost toppled over from the overwhelming wave of it all, but somehow, he managed to sit down on the edge of Obi-Wan’s bed instead. “ _Hey_ —it’s just me.”

Anakin waited for one heartbeat, two, three as Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly cleared, his breathing evening out as he registered his surroundings. And then Obi-Wan focused on Anakin, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Anakin,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s fine,” Anakin said quickly. “You’re fine.” But he didn’t move his hands. He could feel Obi-Wan’s pulse thundering from where Anakin still held his hand, his wrist. “You’re _here_.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan’s eyes only roved around the small room, as though he, too, was trying to assure himself of his surroundings. Finally, when he seemed certain that he was, indeed, situated in his quarters, Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice still hoarse. Cracking. “I’m _sorry_.”

“Don’t,” Anakin said. He rubbed his thumb over Obi-Wan’s bare wrist, wishing that that gesture alone could slow down the still too-quick pulse. Or maybe it really was. But Anakin wasn’t sure if that was just his imagination.

Obi-Wan stilled at the gesture, and then Anakin stopped. “Sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t—”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, his voice soft in the stillness. “It’s…fine.” _Ah, so it_ had _been working_.

So Anakin continued until Obi-Wan’s pulse was steady again, until Obi-Wan’s breathing had evened completely. And under Anakin’s other hand, he felt Obi-Wan sink a little under him, though not out of exhaustion or pain.

“The med bay’s less busy now,” Anakin said after what felt like an eternity. He nodded down at where the brunt of Obi-Wan’s injuries would be. “So now we can have a more proper look at those.”

“I suppose,” Obi-Wan said, surrendering.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. “I’ll be there,” he said. “In case you…need anything.” He felt stupid for saying those words, because Obi-Wan didn’t _need_ anything from him, and Anakin knew that Obi-Wan _couldn’t_ need anything from him—

But Obi-Wan was nodding—and for the first time since that entire day, Anakin felt something else slip between Obi-Wan’s shields. Relief. Cool, pure, simple relief.

“Okay.” Anakin stood up, gently leading Obi-Wan off the bed. “Med bay, then.”

\--

Anakin kept his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> uh, I started writing this fic a few weeks ago, but then I stopped, and then I re-started it because reasons. Some of the dialogue in this fic were pulled/inspired by actual lines from the Star Wars: the Clone Wars comic of Slaves of the Republic. (In which Anakin's trauma as a slave is actually addressed, and Ahsoka actually reflects a little more on the fact that her people were enslaved, and that Anakin and Ahsoka actually did swear to end slavery once they won the war.)
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
